Love is a Wasteland
by TheWeepingLady
Summary: LexamiXHotstreak  He was the world's most feared Raider. She was the key to saving the world. Will Lexa and Francis take down the Enclave and bring water back to the Wasteland?
1. To Tell The Tale

Hello People! My name is Lexami243 and this is a new story (one of my rare long ones) and it happens to be a crossover. ^_^

Forgive my mathematical errors in the start if there are any as math is not my strong point. Hopefully language is and you are going to tell me. So R&R after this chapter Plz! Like really… please.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout 3 or Static Shock, if I did I'd buy Static Shock, get it up and running again, and then I would promptly ride my private jet to Rome to have pizza, as I'd have millions that I made from Fallout 3, 2, and 1.

P.s. Forgive any errors of direction or placement of places in Fallout 3 and be sure to point them out (Politely). Thank you!

Prologue & Chapter 1:

The Life of a Wasteland Demon

_Somewhere in between the years 2066 and 2067 America would declare war with China and the beginning of the apocalypse years after would ensue…_

_The world would soon be plunged into a catastrophic warzone and nuclear warfare would fill the once proud streets of Washington D.C. with shattered oblivion…_

_The end of the world was only the beginning…_

_The few lucky humans of the world's population that were aloud safety and shelter from the torrent of bombs and gunfire were taken to deep underground facilities built in case such apocalyptic happenings would occur…_

_These facilities…were called Vaults…_

_And through them the rich and influential were almost always granted a place in them…_

_But not everyone in the world was rich…_

_Sadly some unfortunate souls were caught in the blast of radiation and fire…_

_They live their lives as living corpses, slowly decaying over the long periods of time…_

_Most know these people as Ghouls…_

_There were thousands of Vaults located throughout the world and every one had an Overseer…_

_The Vaults were the next part in mankind's history…_

_One day all the Vaults were opened and the descendants of the first Vault Dweller's stepped out into the world…_

_Mankind had survived the apocalypse…_

_But now they were faced with a new challenge…_

_Surviving the scorched, dead, unforgiving, radiation filled wasteland that was now to be the world they lived in… _

_It is said all the Vault's opened accept one…_

_That was Vault 101…_

_But out of that Vault almost a hundreds of years later there would be two people the world would know forever…_

_The first the father of the boy to change the world as the Waste landers knew it…_

_The boy was the second…_

_Together they would restore the world's Irradiated water supply back to normal…_

_They both died after they'd installed the G.E.C.K. and for a few years the world was beginning to heal…_

_But then something tragic occurred…_

_It is now the year 3797 and the G.E.C.K. that was supposed to fix the world has now malfunctioned after a few years and the water cannot be purified at all now…_

_The water has been polluted and metamorphosed into a deadly poison..._

_The world has now been plunged into a waterless hell…_

_The little purified water left is now almost ten thousand bottle caps per drop…_

_The military has gone into hiding and most think the Enclave has been wiped out…_

_We are living on borrowed time…_

_Most have lost all hope…_

_But there are rumors all throughout the Wasteland saying that there is another G.E.C.K. that is hundreds of times more powerful and potentially destructive than the last…_

_No one knows anything other than it might exist…_

_Now years and years and years ago there was a chemical outbreak on the docks of North Dakota…_

_And out of that explosive outbreak dubbed by the local's as The Big Bang…_

_There were born that day a new breed of, what some believed, to be biological demigods…_

_The local's referred to them as Bang Babies…_

_They turned the cities of North Dakota into glorified gang wars…_

_But some of them fought to stop their corrupt brethren…_

_The Bang Babies had a variety of awesome powers at their disposal. All varying in their power, mutation, and size…_

_Most of them were former gangster's gone super villains…_

_Years past and the bang babies soon realized that they had become ageless… _

_At least some had…_

_When the bombs would fall…_

_When the world would end…_

_When Ghouls and Super mutants would rise…_

_The Bang Babies would still live…_

_Some of them were horribly disfigured by the radiation when it had come into contact with their genetically mutated bodies…_

_Some of them gained ten times more power than they'd ever had before…_

_And others would die the instant they felt the radiation's sting…_

_This is a story of one Bang Baby in particular…_

_He was a gangster and a bully…_

_He wasn't a genius, but he was street smart…_

_He lived a horrible and tough life…_

_His name as a gang leader was F-Stop… _

_His name as a Bang Baby was Hotstreak…_

_His name when he was human was Francis Stone…_

_His life before the bombs would never be remembered as well as what he'd do after the bombs…_

_He would become the greatest Bang Baby the world had ever known…_

_His power would surpass all others…_

_He would awaken in the year 3777 in an underground lab…_

_He would survive the first dose of radiation and he would be one of the ones to gain new power…_

_He would witness things that no man of his years should ever see…_

_He would be immortal…_

_And he lived to see when the G.E.C.K. was erected and when it destroyed the world…_

_He would live a long life…_

_He would live a lonely life…_

_He would be dead on the inside…_

_He would indeed earn the name Stone…_

_His previous life was gone…_

_And there was nothing he could do, but think about his future…_

_He would survive…_

_The year is 3797 and the world is slowly dying…_

_Francis Stone has been alive for 1786 years, 1767 of them he spent asleep…_

_He is forever 19 and he has wondered the Wastes aimlessly for years…_

_He is hardened and ruthless…_

_He is famous for his new life of crime…_

_He is still somewhat spirit filled…_

_The constant battles for his life have kept him fit…_

_The radiation's only recognizable mutation is the fact that Francis has color changing eyes…_

_A small if not useless trait…_

_In fact it's gotten him noticed far too many times in local bars…_

_They are the only things that give him away…_

_They tell the world that he is not human…_

_They change with his emotion…_

_They usually stay black…_

_For he is mostly numb._

_Francis Stone is one of the last remaining Bang Babies in the world…_

_Francis Stone has the ability to manipulate fire…_

_Francis Stone has the heighted senses of a demon…_

_Francis Stone…_

_Francis Stone is feared by the world…_

_He is known as the Fiery Ripper…_

_He is the Wasteland's most hardened Raider…_

_He is numb…_

_And he will change the world._

The wind was howling like a dying wolf over the dusty wretched plains that were the Capital Wasteland. The dust rose up into the air over broken roads, ruined cars, hills of debris, and found its way to the desolate town of Minefield. The sky was a horrible bloody red and the clouds were a sickly shade of smoky grey as the cloud of dust rolled between the ruins of buildings and cars. The town was completely empty…there was only one figure standing on the third floor of an old grey ruin.

The figure was a tall cloaked young man garbed in a hooded, blackened skin of a rare species of wolf like Death Claw known as a Death Ripper. The young man looked out upon the bleak hills that were once human civilization with blank disdain as the dust filled wind made his cloak flow out around his body violently. The young man was pondering his existence solemnly under his hood and the town of Minefield behind him was regarded much like a shadow of the past. The young nameless man sighed dully into the wind with thoughts of his destination, his past, his life, and his purpose biting at him from the back of his mind like a Feral Ghoul.

'_This life of violence I lead…Like burning fires across my soul leaving scorched flesh in its wake, just like in reality. What do I have to live for I wonder? I survive through means of corruption and rebellious deceit… That is what I've always lived for I guess. I'm a demon… I am the god of Anarchy, all Raiders are. Every single fucking day I gotta be reminded of this and I revel inside that mindless chaos of when I find someone to jog my memory… I might as well remember my own blackened ideals if I'm to keep my life long and live without a conscience. Megaton is only a short journey away… I'll rest there for the night before I go to Paradise Falls. I'm a demon… Every time someone looks at me with hatred I can't forget that it's my own damned fault… If I do forget then I am weakening my resolve… Can't have that can I? Ha, I really do enjoy this violent existence-cause that's what it is I lead-an existence… mmm… I need to feel the power…I love to lose myself inside the fire… one day I'm gonna lose my mind. Oh well! Might as well block out the truth if all its gonna do is make me feel like shit-wow am I really angst-y today ha, ha.'_

The young man's face twisted into a demonic smile underneath his hood as the wind continued to cause his cloak to whip around him. The young man's build was imposing and fierce as his immense shadow loomed over the Wasteland from his perch atop the old building that was at the farthest corner of the old town. The young man wasn't as sane as he'd been when he was younger and it showed.

The young man's right arm jerked up suddenly and an abandoned house that was nearby was suddenly consumed inside a blinding white light and a massive explosion surged through the earth as the house was now an unrecognizable pile of ash and fire danced around the ground. The young man looked at his masterpiece with his same demonic gleeful grin and in one great leap he had rocketed off the ruin about fifty feet ahead of him and began to bound across the Wasteland with incredible speed. This man was not human… he was barely passing as one.

The young man's hood had flown back when he'd soared off the building and hit the ground in a run. The young man looked no older that nineteen, yet his face looked worn and aged and there was a single jagged scar along the right side of his face from an old injury. The man's hair was spiked crookedly in a mess of vivid red and blond as it was blown back by the young man's godlike speed. His eyes were abnormal… one was a toxic orange whilst the other was an abysmal black and they held what seemed to be decades of pain locked deep inside them. The man's body was like a deadly work of art as he flew along the rocky dust covered hills south west towards Megaton.

His hooded cloak stood out like a cheerleader in a Hot Topic with its light onyx furred texture it looked like a warrior's robes. The cloak was made of the skin of the European Death Ripper and most thought them to be nonexistent, but that was only because if you ever had the chance to see one you'd most likely be dead within the same second. The European Death Ripper was what became of a wolf and a Death Claw when they'd merged together from radiation saturation. Most Death Rippers were only native to Europe, but as to why is a mystery. Some think it's because the snowy climate is so eradiated that the only successful means of merging a Death Claw and a wolf together would be to constantly have contact with the snow.

The young man had managed to kill one and now wore the beast's skin proudly though the fur was making him almost unbearably hot. The fur was almost as good as priceless since no one had ever seen a Death Ripper and lived; let alone killed one. The cloak was tougher than diamond and lighter that silk.

It was impressive to say the least.

The cloak stayed close to his body and hid his cloths beneath it as his feet pounded against the ground almost soundlessly like he was a moving shadow. The young man projected such a beastly grace about himself that it was almost terrifying. His arms moved with his legs as he suddenly skidded to a crouch in mid run and jumped up into the air like a bird.

His eyes shut and his whole form arched up beautifully as he had leapt up a good twenty feet into the air. His back arched into a back flip as he landed on one hand he continued to twisted and dance forward across the ground gracefully. He twisted and jumped and flipped energetically towards his destination and he howled loudly into the wind with joy.

The young man had let go and turned to do the one thing that made him forget his reality.

He ran.

He ran like hell.

The young man was filled with an adrenalin rush throughout his whole being as he bounced off rocks and cliffs while he twisted and playfully leaped into the air like a gazelle. The man had an animalistic beauty about him… he was like a wolf in a way, beastly and graceful, violent and poised, viscous and loyal, deadly and beautiful, he was an animal in this way.

The young man was a killer and a dancer it seemed. This was how he lived for all his life… he had always lived like an animal. This was his escape… he ran from his world.

The young man's massive legs never lost their balance and his whole body moved together harmonically in one fluid pattern. Years of physical hardship had given him the reflexes of a panther and the cruelty of a bloodthirsty lion. He was a demon.

He was an animal.

He was a raider!

He was a God!

He was many things both powerful and cruel, but there was one thing that he regrettably was also.

He was alone.

The white hot sun was sinking below the horizon into the rocky cliffs in the west and the blood red sky began to get a sickly black. The young man dived off a cliff that was a good forty-five feet high and stayed in a brief free fall just living in that moment. That was his code. He never thought too much about tomorrow he just lived for the now. He lived for the moment even if he sometimes dwelled on the past.

The young man growled playfully as he began running on all fours like an animal and soon the view of the city of Megaton came into his line of sight. The sun had set about two hours ago when he had reached it, but he had long since stopped putting numbers with hours. He knew when it was morning and he knew when it was night. That was good enough for him. The young man stopped atop a rock formation for a clear view of the city. He was crouched down on his haunches and the wind rustled his hair lightly as his gaze turned into a cold analytical stare.

The man's eyes had gone black and his face looked cold as ice… Unfeeling.

'_I hope Moriarty hasn't killed over yet… it's been almost twenty years now.'_ The young man thought absently as his chapped lips once again twisted up into a devilish grin. "When the devil comes a knocking…" the young man trailed off quietly into the air as he crept down the slope of rocks to the city gate like a benevolent silhouette in the night. He landed a few yards away from the gate with a quiet thump; he rose to his feet swiftly and with an unfeeling gaze, stalked to the gate like he was a king. The young man was the picture of arrogance as his big graceful strides carried him with a dignified and yet cunning swagger.

The crater shaped city of Megaton had but one gate in the front of it and the gate was usually hidden behind an electric garage like door. Thankfully tonight it was open for the traveling caravans and the occasional Waste lander. As the young man stepped beyond the arch way to face the gate, the ground beneath him felt strangely familiar as his body recognized the odd feeling of returning home. He had only stayed here for five months and that was before he had made a name for himself among the straggling remains of humanity.

The young man's cold unfeeling expression wavered into a look of familiar comfort for a split second, but it was hardly even a small glint in his eyes. Megaton was the town he had stayed in the longest and it was the town that had now come to fear him with a burning severity.

The young man pushed the metal gate open and stepped into the city's walls, closing the gate behind him. The young man sneered as he recalled the man he was about to see again after twenty years, "_Moriarty was a slimy bastard… greedy too. I'm sure he'll let me spend the night… if not then I'll just threaten to burn down his bar with him in it. It's a win-win." _The young man licked his lips that had suddenly become dry and observed the dark barely lit town.

Megaton hadn't changed at all… it was still in a crater and there was still a dormant bomb sitting in the center of town. The collection of elevated shacks made of scrap metal had small cracks of light coming from a few of them. No one was up and about as he looked for signs of people walking the stairs and decks around the town.

The young man looked around him as he walked down into the crater known as Megaton and when he reached the bomb the city was famous for he realized that the town in fact **had **changed. With a small barely acknowledging frown he noticed that under the decks of metal high in the air there were tunnels lit by lanterns all around the crater. Apparently after twenty years the town had finally decided to expand. The young man looked around once more so as not to attract attention with witnesses and then leapt up an inhuman amount of feet into the air and landed right outside of Moriarty's Bar. 

The bar was just like he remembered… an old decrepit collection of scrap metal and grunge ruled by a biased and conniving old man named Moriarty. The young man smiled dryly as his memory of the place hadn't dulled at all in the last twenty years, '_Ah…there's no place like home… now if only home was a better place.' _He thought sarcastically as he pushed open the old door with great force.

The bar was unchanged and there were a few new faces staring at him with shock. The young man marched into the bar commandingly as he let the door slam shut in his wake. It only took a short while for the looks of shock to morph into horror as they recognized the man's Death Ripper cloak. The few occupants stared at him like he was Satan himself as he glared ruthlessly back at them all like they were vermin. Truly… the young man was a force to be reckoned with. He stood tall in the entry way and stepped towards the line of barstools in front of him about three feet.

The bar was a shabby rundown place… much like most of the rest of the world he'd seen. The young man slammed both of his large calloused hands down on top of the bar counter with such force it shook the whole room and suddenly with a demanding shout he bellowed over the whispers of the few inhabitants. "Where the hell is Colin Moriarty?" the young man's voice was rough and roguish, tinged with years of fighting for his life. His sudden shout made the people in the bar jump. Suddenly a curtain behind the stairs shot open and a woman in her mid-forties now stood in the room staring at him along with the others.

Only she was looking at him with more disbelief than fear.

"Frankie… Frankie Stone? Is… is that you? Or… or are you his son… No fucking way! You haven't changed a bit!" The attractive woman had faded red hair cut short and rebellious, wore a leather outfit that showed off her assets, and had a seductive undertone in her otherwise awestruck voice.

The young man turned to regard the woman with a shocked expression and found his voice less hostile, but it was still intimidating. "Nova, I thought you'd have left this God forsaken hell hole by now… Is Moriarty still alive?" The young man asked the familiar face casually and the woman dubbed Nova answered him automatically, "Yeah, he is." Before she boldly walked up to him and stood right in front of him with a distant look. She reached a shaking hand up to touch his cheek. "How… How is this possible? It's been over twenty years and yet you don't look a day over 19… how?" Before she could touch him he backed away with a cold look directed toward her.

"I'm gonna crash here tonight. I have some business up at Paradise Falls and don't think I won't drag you up there with me. If you so much as look at me the wrong way I'll collar you and send you off with the slavers." The young man's voice was cruel and unfeeling. Nova glared at him with hatred and jerked her hand away like she'd been burned. Nova sneered up at the taller man and addressed him by his world renowned title.

"I see the tales of The Fiery Ripper are true… I suppose you've changed after all. You're a heartless bastard and if you want a room, talk to Moriarty, because I sure as hell won't give you one." She then walked past him and made for the door. The young man roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her to face his soulless blackened eyes now fill with a reddish tinge of hatred around them. His lips curled up into a beastly snarl as Nova looked upon him with new terror, "Don't act like you know me! You can't judge me, because I don't give a damn about your judgment. What do you know? Get the hell outa my sight, whore." His harsh words hit her like a train as he shoved her roughly to the door.

Nova looked at his back with fear, hatred, and… pity.

"You're right… I don't know you. You used to be a little less of a mother fucker back then… now you're just a glorified dog." Nova walked out the door without another word… leaving the young man…The Fiery Ripper… to seethe.

He growled dangerously at one poor soul that had caught his eye and was suddenly interrupted by the door behind the end of the bar opening abruptly with a thud. From behind the door emerged an old withered man with greasy grey hair and a beard holding a shotgun with a fierce look on his aged face. "What the hell is going on?" The old man didn't notice the young man until said young man lost his patience. The young man leapt over the bar's counter and ripped the gun away from the now startled man. He hissed through clenched teeth at the man he once knew. "Moriarty, I need a room and I'm taking one, so give me a key or I'll make sure that your shitty bar turns into a shitty pile of ashes."

The old man stood immobile as he faced the unchanged face of the boy that he used to know with shock and without asking any questions pulled an old rusty key out of his pocket and handed it to the angry young man.

The young man snatched the key with a tag with the number five on it and once again leapt over the counter and up the stairs.

Colin Moriarty was speechless… But he knew well enough not to address the old face. He could only grasp the back wall to keep from falling and listen to the stomps from the young man up the stairs. Over the years Colin Moriarty had learned a number of things… 1… if accosted by a group of all-female raiders do not try to flirt your way out of it.

2… Do not get involved with Slavers (Not since he got on their bad side five years ago).

…and 3… if you ever meet an ageless man, do not ask questions and you'll keep your knee caps.

This is what he lived by and as Moriarty turned back into his small back room he could only think about one thing. That one thing was to turn around and warn the patrons of the bar grimly, "No one is to breathe a word about that man to Harden and if I get word of someone blabbing I'll hunt you down like the stupid bastards you are!" and then turn back into his room with a sickly feeling in his gut. Moriarty hardly ever got shaken up about anything… ever. So when Colin Moriarty got a bad feeling in his gut it usually meant that whoever was causing him unease was not to be messed with.

'_First those Vault Escapees and then Frankie Stone… I always get the fucking crazies. If only Gob were still around… filthy Ghoul… at least then I could ease my fucking nerves! Jesus Christ that boy hasn't aged at all! He's not human… If he doesn't get the hell out of my bar by tomorrow then I'll have to force him out… maybe the Church of Atom has some holy water.' _Colin Moriarty fell into a troubled sleep and it was as if he didn't quite think that this was real. He could only ignore the fact that there was an ageless demon above his head and block out his fear.

Meanwhile the young man had escorted himself into his small one bed room and flopped down onto the bed lazily. He hadn't even taken the time to undress as his tired muscles hit the worn filthy mattress with a heavy thud. The young man was tense from all the old faces he'd seen and he could only escape into his thoughts tonight.

Only tonight could he have the leisure of working out his problems, because this was a rare thing for him. He never really had a decent life or sleeping arrangements and now as he stared up at the grimy metal ceiling his thoughts ran on in their own melancholy way. His eyes closed as the day's exhaustion took hold of his mind and he began to fall into a troubled sleep.

'_My name is Francis Stone… I was born in the year 1991 in what used to be North Dakota. Yeah… that's who I am. I used to be in a gang… what was it called again… damn, can't remember. Uh, I think I knew a girl name Frieda Goren at one point… oh I had a crush on her at my old High School. God, I don't even know why I bother to jog my own memory. It'll never be the same… I hated the old sterile white hospitals back when the world was alive. Hey, I can recall when I got turned into a Bang Baby! Wow, that's an old one… Static Shock and Gear used to suck all the fun out of it.'_

The young man felt that if he could remember who he was and where he came from that he could still hold onto a piece of his old life. With every scattered memory he could grasp he felt a great sense of sentimentality and he could always see his memories in such vivid detail and color. The young man's eyes were tightly shut as he lay on his back with his arms at his sides and his old life flashed behind his closed lids.

'_Oh, I knew someone named Ebon… a living shadow. I-I was in the hospital for two years when I was about… how old was I? Oh well, age really doesn't mean a thing anymore… why was I there? I… I was beaten by… that sick bastard! My own father almost killed me! Beat me into a near coma! My mother didn't give a damn about it either, just let him do it… oh I don't wanna think about this. I… I'm a Bang Baby maybe the last and I'm alone forever… that's real depressing.'_

The young man groaned out like he was in pain and in a sense he was. He had no one and no one knew him. No human being knew the real Francis Stone… all they saw was the cold blooded killer behind the name The Fiery Ripper. He'd done so many horrible things in his life… cruel things… wrong things… he'd been alone even when he was surrounded by people. He had decades of loneliness to contend with and it had taken its toll on him. He was once just a normal kid… he went to school, he was a bully, he didn't take shit from any one, and he had lost his childhood to abuse, drugs, and crime.

He was a man now… he was more than that, but even the devil gets lonely when even your own demons fear you. He was the leader of the fiercest band of Raiders ever to cross the wasteland and soon when they'd realized just what he was they'd turned their backs on him. Now he was alone with his thoughts and the hated stares of the world. The world had ended and he was still breathing… he couldn't bring up the surrender and kill himself though. He was stronger than that… he was tougher than a Super mutant's hide.

All the years of fighting… his whole life had been one big solitary battle and that was how it was always going to be. He'd been hardened, he'd been wizened, and most of all he'd been deadened. Sometimes he would pray to whatever God there was to die… but he never would.

He lived inside the darkness that was his soul… he dwelled in the numb abyss that was his mindless self-destruction… he was a cold unfeeling shell of the kid he'd used to be.

He wasn't a deep person nor was he complex, but he knew what it was like to feel the bitter sting of self-loathing. He hated himself and so did the rest of the world, but that didn't stop him from lashing out against them. If they wouldn't accept him, if they feared him, if they hated him then he'd treat them ten times crueler than they did him. He didn't need any one to carry him along… he was a living statue and the world knew that.

Just as the young man was about to lose consciousness he sat up right and reached inside his cloak pulling out an old gnarled heavy black journal. He held the book in his hands with a blank expressionless stare and pulled out a small black pen that looked like it matched the book. The young man sighed with regret as he held the book in one large hand and opened it in the middle with the other. He searched the torn and aged pages of the book that looked almost to be centuries old and found the page he was looking for.

The young man hunched over still holding the book in one hand and began to write with the other as his expression appeared to be void of all emotion.

And that is the end for now! I have chapter 2 all set up if you happen to enjoy this so please R&R telling me so. ^_^

A person once said that I needed to stop whoring for reviews… well sorry to say that I'm a whore! :P… for reviews… not in real life… I'm a virgin so that can't be possible… well it could be I guess, but I'm not because I'm… Ok I'm off subject. ^_^

Read & Review = R&R = Me So Happy :D

Lexami243

P.s. Oo, also, for a fun little thing why don't you tell me what come to mind when I say the words Butter, Hotstreak, Rolling Pin, Lawn chair. Here's what comes to mine: Hotstreak tied to a lawn chair covered in butter being wacked by his crazy neighbor Lola who claims that he is a "Big Buttery Sausage". ^_^


	2. Journal of a Wasteland Dog

Hey! I changed my screen name again ^_^ not very original but oh well. I hope you enjoy this nxt installment of Love is a Wasteland ^_^

_June 27, 2220_

_It has been a hell of a long journey to the Capital Wasteland, but I managed to make it here without a single scratch. I met Nova and Moriarty in the old bar I used to work in about twenty years ago. _

_I didn't feel like talking to either of them so I just forced my way into this room I'm currently writing in and now I'm gonna crash for the night. Everyone in this town despises me and it's getting a little… what's the word? Um, Redundant! That's it. It's a little unnerving that after twenty years I'm still not very articulate. Ha! Now a days if you can speak decent English at all you're considered smart. Well, after I rest I'm going to make my way to Paradise Falls and see if there's anything there for me to do. _

_I've been feeling more and more… depressed wouldn't even come close to how I feel. I hate this existence… Because that's all this is, an existence. When all the water is gone the world is as good as dead. I keep having nightmares… all of them including my father or the old faces of my peers. They keep taunting me… they keep hitting me and they spit on me and during the dream I'm can't do anything. It doesn't make any sense at all… it pisses me off. I wonder if I'm all alone… I mean if I'm the last Meta-human. I haven't seen another Bang Baby since I awoke in that cryogenic chamber in Alva's underground lab._

_I keep dreaming of that too… I can remember it so clearly. I can remember when I'd first blacked out in the middle of the street when they came for me… when Alva's cronies came. I still don't know why in the hell they'd want me… I mean Alva's son was just fine last I'd seen him. I guess I'll never know… That's not fair! I at least want to know why I've been thrown into this endless life… maybe if I hadn't been exposed to radiation I could have aged… I could have died._

_I can barely sleep at all, but soon the exhaustion takes over and I can just pass out. I'm already starting to black out, but I… I feel the need to write. It's the only thing that keeps me somewhat sane. I can feel the cold metal of the lab's floor on my bare feet every time I think about it. Alva was a devious bastard… what could he have possibly wanted from me? I can't dwell too much on what things used to be like or it'll just keep hurting more and more with every passing day. I don't even know why I'm going to Paradise Falls… it's not like I enjoy catching slaves. _

_I hope I can get back to my Vault soon… after twenty years I still can't believe how much of my old stuff survived the bombs. Never would have thought I'd get enough time to read an entire dictionary… wow, how dull have I gotten? Perhaps I can get back to North Dakota by this August. Maybe after I take care of business in Paradise I can crash a few caravans, kill a few Raiders, and cause a little hell, just same 'ol same 'ol__. _

_End Entry_

He closed the journal slowly and placed the old pen inside it before he slipped it back into one of his cloak's inner pockets.

It was amazing that a book of that size could fit inside his cloak, but being since he was such a well-built and large muscled young man his cloak was large enough to be a smaller man's tent. The weary young man once again crashed back onto the filthy mattress and shut his eyes.

The years had taken their toll on him indeed.

This young man's real name was Francis Stone… and he was known by all as The Fiery Ripper after the first supposed Hellion Death Rippers that were now a part of Waste lander mythology. Ah yes, the story of the Demonic Death Rippers started about ten years ago and soon after became common myth. It is said, supposedly, that once the world was destroyed that God's rein ended and Satan's rule began as God had forsaken the world. Some people actually believe that hell has come to earth in the form of the Wasteland that the world has now become, but this is all just a fairy tale.

Anyway, just like God created creatures to roam his world Satan was given control to form beasts of his own to ravage the earth and so the story of Hellion Death Rippers began. The radiation was the tool which Satan chose to use as his proverbial paint and he looked at the few animals God had left on the earth as new canvases. Satan picked out the most viscous of the animals to be his faithful servant and the most loyal and deadly left happened to be the wolf. Satan captured one of the wolves and began to infuse the beast with demonic power until it began to mutate.

Some versions of the legend say that Death Claws were the less powerful beasts that became of the few lesser domesticated dogs Satan had captured and infused with his power. Other variations say that the Death Claws weren't dogs at all, but were in fact just the demons that Satan let possess and mutate the wolves and were now still wondering the Wasteland in search of more wolves.

However the Death Claws came to be, is a supernatural mystery and a scientific anomaly.

So as the tale goes Satan chose to use the few most powerful mutated wolves as his closest companions and unleashed them out upon the world to steal the souls of the few remaining humans they could find. He called them Death Rippers, because they would rip away a humans death and peace to drag them to hell and burn in eternal hell fire.

It's a truly gruesome story and as Francis Stone became more famous with his major deeds of thievery and destruction the same people that started the myth in the first place began claiming that he was The Fiery Ripper. They said that he was the one soul that had merged with the Hellion Death Ripper and stole its evil power. They spread their lies and foolish stories all across the waste land until the whole world knew Francis as The Fiery Ripper; the anti-ethereal being that could transform into a giant soul tearing demonic Death Ripper.

It hadn't helped to make the rumors cease at all when Francis had managed to kill an actual Death Ripper and steal it's pelt. Death Ripper's were very creepy disfigured creatures that did indeed look like demons, but it's fact that the radiation is the sole reason that the creatures exist and there is nothing supernatural about them at all… to bad that half the Wasteland has bought into the stories.

Of course if they hadn't then Francis probably wouldn't be as feared as he was now.

Being known as The Fiery Ripper was only the end of what Francis Stone had accomplished over the consecutive eighty years he'd been awake. In fact it was only about twenty years ago that he'd gotten the title The Fiery Ripper. Francis Stone was much more than he would appear at first glance.

The truth of the matter is that Francis Stone was born in the almost ancient year of 1991 and lived when the world was untainted by radiation, unpolluted by Feral Ghouls and Super mutants, and where there was grass every were and water was practically free. Francis Stone had lived before the war and he had lived almost the same way he did now; though before he wasn't consider a demon incarnate of the post apocalypse.

Francis Mathew Stone was born February 21, 1991 in Dakota Saints Hospital and given too Mrs. Heather Francine Stone and Mr. Jacob Falconer Stone and sent home the next day with them. Heather and Jacob had never planned to have children and they'd never wanted children, but one would think that, no matter the circumstances, they would still cherish and adore their son. Sadly that was not the case. Jacob Stone was one of the most feared drug lords in Dakota and one of the most cruel men ever to been spawned. Heather Stone was a cold woman that used to be a prostitute until she met Jacob, whom helped her start her own illegal prostitution ring.

Francis Stone was born into a family of crime, murder, drugs, and sex. By the age of five young Francis had already lived most of his life on the streets and away from his abusive parents. For years Francis had to undergo countless beatings from his father and brutal mental abuse from his mother. No one in Francis's school knew anything about his life at home, but they did know him as the school bully. When Francis was about six years old his father beat him within an inch of his life with a blunt object and sent him to the hospital.

Francis was never a strong child so when his father had finally sent him to the hospital he couldn't leave for two years. Francis had been a frail and easily bruised kid and coupled with the daily beatings it was a miracle that he was still breathing. Francis Stone developed a severe inferiority complex and a fear of hospitals when he was finally released at the age of eight and shortly after he was put into a foster home with Mr. Jonathan and Mrs. Katie Holloway. His parents had both been killed in a horrible meth lab fire and now he was alone.

Francis felt weak, alone, rejected, and worthless because he couldn't defend himself against his parents. He swore to himself that he'd never let people look at him like he was worthless ever again.

After five months of being with the Holloway's and being in school Francis Stone began to lash out more against his peers and foster parents. It took no time at all for young Francis to become more and more distant from every one that knew him. Soon at the age of eleven Francis Stone was accepted into the Five Alarm Crew and was recognized as a juvenile delinquent by everyone. Francis Stone's school life was nothing more than a long drive off a short cliff into hell. Francis Stone was a troubled and extremely pained teenager, but he still felt the sting of rejection.

He'd chosen one particular boy to prey on and that boy's name was Vergil Hawkins. Francis envied him for everything that he had. He didn't think it was fair that Vergil should have a nice roof over his head while he was left out on the street after he'd run away from his foster home. Why should Vergil get to have a family that loved him when his parents had thought of him like a filthy rat they were forced to live with? It made him mad. It made him so angry that Vergil got to have love and friends and a warm bed. If anything he deserved it way more than him!

Francis Stone had dedicated his life to making Vergil's life a living hell for the rest of his school life.

When Francis Stone was eighteen he had already started his own gang, killed a few men, and lived out of an old abandoned apartment for three years. Also at the age of eighteen Francis Stone took place in a gang war on the docks of Dakota and was part of an event that would change his life forever.

That event was forever known as the Big Bang.

Francis Stone and many of the city's youth were changed into super humans known as Bang Babies by the toxic gas that was being housed there at the docks. After Francis had been a part of the Big Bang he'd continued his life of crime and joined another all Meta human gang run by a living black hole named Ebon.

His life had been unfair… he'd taken quickly to the rough lifestyle of the streets when he was barely a teenager. Francis Stone had a temper and this is what most thought his bullying was a bi product of… but the truth was Francis Stone wanted to hurt people like he was hurting. Deep inside his heart he was a scared child wanting someone to hold him close and tell him that everything was going to change for the better. He wanted someone to take him in and believe in him. He wanted a chance to be something to someone other than a criminal.

He wanted to be cared about with every fiber of his heart, but he'd never told a soul.

He gritted his teeth and punched someone if they were cold to him. It was just that simple and honestly he enjoyed taking joy rides in stolen sports cars, motorcycles, and that one helicopter. When he was young he wanted love so badly that he would have killed for it.

Sadly his hallmark moment never came and Francis Stone was never truly loved… he was hardly even liked. When Francis Stone was nineteen years old he was captured for the second time by Edwin Alva, the creator of the gas that had given him the power to control fire, and sent him to an underground lab for reasons unknown.

He was frozen in a cryogenic chamber against his will and was studied for months until he was forgotten there by the scientists and left there to be forever frozen.

Francis Stone was cryogenically frozen in the year 2010 and due to a machine malfunction Francis's cryogenic freezer opened in the year 2140.

Francis Stone found his way out of the old dust covered lab and made his way to the surface. Instead of being greeted by Edwin Alva's top notch security team and well-fortified facility he had just stepped out into what was left of Dakota. When Francis first felt the taste of the irradiated air he collapsed to the ground as his not so chemically virgin body was quickly being modified and genetically mutated by the radiation around what used to be Alva's lab. After an hour of agony all over his body Francis Stone was modified beyond the point of no return.

His strength increased, his skin got tougher, his eyes got sharper, his whole genetic code had been twisted into something that wasn't entirely human.

Disoriented and afraid Francis found his way to the small settlement of Rikatowa and stayed there for three days after he'd learned what had happened in the last 130 years he'd been asleep. Francis Stone wondered the Wastes for years on end.

He'd explored what was left of Alva's lab and discovered that some of the stuff in his old abandoned apartment was there. He was alone and all the events that transpired 130 years ago seemed like they'd only happed yesterday. It took him a while to adjust, but when he did he started the path of a Raider.

He stole, murdered, and lied to get by in the Wastes and soon his need for love became a forgotten scar in his heart. Francis traveled the world and explored much of the American Wasteland and some of Europe's Wastes as well. The young man he once was has been made into a cold stone. He lives a fast and dangerous life style with only himself to look out for. During his eighty years of wondering the Wasteland Francis has yet to even see a fraction of the world's secrets and he has no interest other than getting by in life.

As he sleeps in Moriarty's bar tonight his nightmares leave him alone for once in a great while. He has done many wondrous things in his life, but he is still inexperience in many things. While Francis may be a master at physical combat, weaponry, navigation, tactical planning, quick thinking, and basic survival he hadn't any clue on how to act civilized anymore. He could negotiate with other Raiders and that was about it. He had been turned into a beast by eighty years of wondering the Wastes aimlessly.

Tonight he would rest and tomorrow he'd be up and ready for his trip to Paradise.

Even a hardened Raider needed to sleep every now and then. Francis had being going since yesterday morning.

Francis Stone lived a hard life… both now and when he was young… He'd made a name for himself in the world, but he hadn't really changed it… the water crisis was still an impending threat and the old U.S. Government was most likely still at large and ready to wipe out the hideous mutants out there in the world along with The Brother Hood of Steal.

These were not his battles and he hadn't been awake to take part in this war.

He was like a hermit living in the unforgiving Wasteland… he didn't need any one.

He wouldn't get hurt again… because he wouldn't allow anyone close enough to let them.

Francis Stone fell into such a deep sleep that night that it was as if he was dead. Whenever the young man slept he would always look so peaceful and dare I say innocent no matter if he'd just gotten through slaughtering an entire camp of Waste landers he would always get to sleep somehow. He didn't get to sleep every night because of paranoia or his nightmares, but tonight he would sleep peacefully.

That's only because that his nightmares were about to be a welcomed occurrence compared to what he would have to face when he would awaken.

Francis Stone's life was going to be changed once again in a major way and he wouldn't even see it coming.

)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*()*)(* )(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*()*)(* )(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*()*)(* )(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*()*)(* )(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*()*)(* )(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*()*)(* )(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*()*)(* )(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*()*)(*

This was originally just one long fic but due to my laziness its become one full of chapters ^_^

I know there are ppl out there who dislike Lexami for her mary-sueness…so I've decided to implant one of her more obscure traits…deep seeded bitterness mixed in with her normal mary sue ness because no matter how many ppl say she's mary sue…lots of other ppl like her :D. ^_^


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